


Several Layers of Daddy Issues

by Romiress



Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, First Time, Identity Porn, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 03:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19880527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: Grant Wilson wants nothing more than to hook up with his personal idol Deathstroke.What he doesn't know won't kill him, right?





	Several Layers of Daddy Issues

Slade didn't usually screw around in his suit. For one, it was unprofessional. For another, getting stains out of his suit was a nightmare.

People didn't take you seriously with cum splattered on you.

But when the young gun he'd been saddled with started rutting against him the moment the job was over? Well, Slade wasn't going to say no to a good thing.

Because holy  _ shit _ was the kid into it. There was no question about that as the kid crawled into his lap, grinding down against him. It had to have hurt—Slade's costume wasn't exactly soft—but the kid didn't say a word of complaint.

He wasn't saying much at all, his mouth busy trying to suck on Slade's neck through his suit.

"Shouldn't we take this somewhere more comfortable?" Slade asks, thinking of all the things he could do with some horny twenty-something in a hotel with a few hours to kill.

"No," the kid says immediately. "Right here is good. In the suits."

Slade's really wishing he'd thought to ask for his name, because right then seems like a bad time as the kid hikes his own pants off before getting to work on Slade's. Amusingly, he doesn't even try to take them off, just slips them down enough for his cock to pop free and considers that good enough.

"Jesus, kid," Slade says. "Slow down, nothing's on fire."

"Ravager," the kid says as he starts to grind them together. "That's my name."

"Seems more like it'll be  _ my _ name when I'm done with you," Slade says with a laugh, and the kid  _ groans  _ in response.

"You're so big," the kid says like he learned how to talk dirty from watching the world's worst porn.

Slade doesn't know what the kids damage is, but if he wants a good time he's going to get one. So he simply picks the kid up, flipping him around so he's belly down on the table, and then hikes his pants down.

"If you want someone to take advantage of your tight little ass, all you had to do was ask. Didn't have to set up this whole job for it."

Because, seeing how wild for him this kid is? There's no question. The job paid well, but Slade almost  _ never _ takes jobs that require him to work with a partner for several extremely good reasons. This is one of them, because half the time a job has a partner, the whole thing is less about the job itself, and more a setup to get him near someone.

Of course, usually those people want to kill him, not fuck him, but it's all the same in the end.

_ "Please,"  _ the kid says, and he's so goddamn needy it's almost impressive. "Always wanted you like this."

Slade isn't terribly enthusiastic about the thought that he has a  _ fan, _ but the way the kids arching in front of him is making up for it. He's putting on a show, downright presenting himself, and when Slade bothers to look he realizes that it's more than just presenting. The kids showing off what he's done, the way his hole is twitching and  _ wet. _

"Ran this whole mission waiting for my dick, didn't you?" Slade says. "Or were you riding your fingers while we were on stakeout?"

"Riding," the kid says.  _ "Please." _

He's eager, so Slade pushes a finger in to test the stretch. The kids more than ready, and he sinks his whole finger in without meeting any resistance. He adds a second, then a third, and makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat as the kid squeezes down on his fingers.

"I want Deathstroke's dick!" The kid says like it's a genuine confession, like it's something he's only just admitting to himself.

Hard to believe when he had the foresight to loosen himself up.

Slade nudges the head of his cock against him and he grinds back immediately. All the fingers in the world isn't quite enough prep, so he's happy the kids already lubed himself up. It makes it easier to sink in, even if it is a tight fit.

"What do you call me?" Slade says when he reaches halfway.

"Deathstroke," the kid chokes.

Slade slaps his ass in response.

"That's my  _ name," _ he says. *What do you call me?"

"Sir!" He says, and Slade rewards him by pressing the rest of the way in.

The kid under him squeezes down so goddamn tight that Slade has to take a moment to recover. He's like a  _ vice. _

"This your first time, kid?" Slade asks, running his hand up the kid's back.

Ravager doesn't answer, but the way he clenches makes it obvious that the answer is yes.

Slade's fingers run across a patch of scar tissue, and he hikes the back of the Ravager costume up to see.

There's a little scar just across his shoulder blade, no more than an inch long. It's an ugly scar, stitched shut by someone without much skill, and healed poorly as a result.

He knows that scar. He knows that scar because he's the one who stitched it shut so badly, back when Grant had stolen his knife, injured himself, and tried to hide it.

Which means the thin body in front of him  _ is _ Grant.

Which means he's buried all the way to the root in his  _ son. _

_ "Sir,"  _ Grant says, his voice all raspy. He already sounds fucked out and they haven't even started. "Please fuck me."

Well, Slade figures, he's already going to hell; Might as well enjoy it.

Slade snaps his hips and gets to work.


End file.
